


Love Letters

by tehkittykat



Category: Tron (Movies), Tron - All Media Types, Tron: Legacy (2010)
Genre: F/M, GFY
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-30
Updated: 2012-01-30
Packaged: 2017-10-30 09:30:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/330268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tehkittykat/pseuds/tehkittykat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rinzler and Yori. Death cannot stop true love. All it can do it delay it for a while.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love Letters

**Author's Note:**

> I blame this on the beautiful people at grid_lined. All gratuitous use of Princess Bride quotes is my own.

_[Tron? Status?]_

_[Status?]_

_[Tron!]_

\------

In his dreams, _she is beautiful_.

He doesn't know her designation, but the curve of her smile and the texture of her hair are as familiar as his ~~damaged glitched~~ own circuits. Most of the time she is laughing at him, her sweet clear voice like music and her circuits pulsing bright. Normally he would lash out, snarling defiance at anyone who would mock him for the battle scars he carried at ~~the User's Clu's~~ the User's betrayal. His dreams have a logic of their own, though, and instead he basks in the sound.

He is sure he has never met her, a note of bitter melancholy as he moves silently through the perfect system. She is passionate, fierce and wise and loving, his perfect complement... and Clu's enforcer prowls _alone_ between the endless Games.

Thus, when he feels _detection_ and _acquisition_ , he stumbles and loses the rhythm of the fight. Flicks his discs out to ricochet and derezz his opponent on return in cool efficiency instead of the elaborate dance he is already infamous for. There is crowd-noise, discontent, but it fades as useless background data.

_[Status?]_

It is a ping, crackling through damaged sectors painfully. But he _knows that signature_. Races to commit the feel of it to memory, tucking the trace safely away amidst the layers of priorities. Hiding the secret of it jealously, something for _himself_ \-- not Clu. He is nearly composed again when the System Administrator descends to meet him, suspicious behind the hollow words of victory.

He doesn't care. He has more pressing things to do than _Games_.

\---

 _Glitch._ He snarls and slams his palm against the opulent viewing window of his spare quarters in the Arena. It shudders but does not crack even at the force of his temper. Clu has reinforced it too many times. He aches fiercely all over and static sparks across his vision.

He has been trying and failing for the last three millicycles to send a reply.

 _She is out there._ And _she is real._

For once he is grateful that there have been no system failures to call him away. He is penned in the Arena as always, but now it is time and space and privacy to work instead of cage and limitation and too much time spent idle.

He hits the window again for good measure, numbing the sparking pain radiating across his chest for a microcycle, and returns to his spot on the floor in the precise center of the room. Tries again. Seeks the signature that called to him across the system.

Acquires it.

[Identify.]

 _[Tron?]_ The reply burns and aches in more than just his damaged circuits.

[Negative. _Rinzler_. Identify.]

The return is taking too long. He cannot hold the connection and cannot _break_ it either. Not without _knowing_.

_[Yori.]_

The connection breaks. He sags to the floor.

_Yori._

He will not forget it.


End file.
